A Writer's Week #134: Busy Times

 So I have to say that September was a very busy--and fun--month for me. I had three events during the month, which is quite a bit. They were all rewarding in their own ways. I was able to meet and greet young readers at all three, which is something I love above all else.

For me, the most rewarding experience I had was my author signing at the BookSmiths Shoppe in Danbury, CT on September 14. It was a fantastic experience. Michelle is extremely reading and author friendly. I can't tell you what it means as an author to have someone in the community as supportive of local authors and young readers.

At the event, I was able to share thoughts about my writing process and some of the experiences I've had on my author's journey. There were several young readers who were forming a book club and a couple that were writing their own books. One young lady had written almost 60 pages. I was able to read the first few pages, and I must say, she had a great story idea. I'm looking forward to reading more!

I was also able to take part in the Litchfield County Irish American Club's Irish Festival on September 7 & 8 in New Milford, CT. This was new for me. It was the first time I had sold my books at a two-day event. Even though it was a larger fee, it was entirely worth is, in spite of the fact that day one was shortened by rain. The crowds on both days were great and I managed to make some money and see some folks I hadn't seen for a while, and make some new friends, too.

It also marked the debut of my new 6-foot Deliverers banner that I'll be using for outdoor shows. It looks really nice, and I've had multiple comments on it. I think I missed a slight opportunity by not making it two-sided, but it definitely draws attention, as does the video display and wireless speaker that I've started using to play my video book trailers. The music attracts folks and then they stay to find out about the books and perhaps watch the videos. I'm thinking about maybe making a video incorporating excerpts from my two audio books. What do you think?

Anyhow, last month was great, and this month is off to a fantastic start. I had an event in Bethel, CT this past weekend, and another one is scheduled in my town of New Fairfield, CT on the 26th.

In addition to that, I'm up to over 9,500 words of my new teen/YA novel, Quirk. I'm hoping the first draft will be complete by the middle of next year. You can check out the first and second chapters in my two previous posts. I've got a page set up here.

I guess that's about it for now. I'm truly grateful for all the support everyone has given me, and I look forward to all the great things yet to come on this journey. Until next time, be well.

Peace.

 

Quirk: Chapter 2

I've been working quite a bit on this work in progress, and I think it's starting to come along. I'm up to almost 8,000 words. I think I almost know which direction this will go. So far the reading level is grade 4, but I'm gearing it toward teens. The writing is pretty simple and direct, so I guess that's why the level is so low. Anyway, please let me know your thoughts in the comments section below. Any input is always appreciated.

Chapter 2

Quirk takes a journey and describes his traveling companions.

    Listen, I’ve never been one for travel and this little journey has done nothing to change my mind. If anyone ever offers you the opportunity to travel through the mountains in a cage on four wheels being pulled by a team of old, broken down, farting horses, I suggest that you politely decline, turn, and run the other way as fast as you can. Although if you were surrounded by a large contingent of Cratt soldiers as were are, your chances of running away would be slim to none.
    Unfortunately, no one gave me or my companions the opportunity to do so. What? Oh, my companions. I suppose I should tell you something about them, seeing as how I’m locked up with them, and you, by association, are as well.
    They’re not much to look at right now. A few I know, the rest appear to be people from other villages in the area. I guess Naguu wasn’t the only village on Cratt’s hit parade. Anyway, we’re crammed in here pretty tight, not much room to breathe let alone move. At the moment, I’m jammed up against some guy in a dirty leather jerkin and some torn breeches. He’s wearing some sort of leather helmet with iron bands and studs. He’s unshaven and his breath stinks, but I guess I should be a little understanding, mine is probably none too fresh, either.
    My back is pressed up against the iron bars of the cage we’re sitting in, and there’s a guy standing in front of me with his backside at eye level. Not a pretty sight. Doesn’t smell too good, either. To my right is a lady with long, mussed red hair in a ripped homespun shirt and linen pants. She’s wearing a leather vest and has knee high leather boots and while she’s softer and squishier than the dude on my left, she looks meaner. She’s already told me about ten times to stop touching her. I’ve done my best to explain to her that I’m not trying to touch her, it’s just that I don’t have much choice in the matter at the moment. Secretly, I’m glad I have an excuse.
    Now, don’t think ill of me, it’s just there’s not much to do in a cage traveling through the mountains for who knows how long to who knows where. If I can’t keep myself preoccupied, I’ll start to think and worry and realize that I’m jammed in a cage with a bunch of people and not a privy in sight. Oh, damn, now that’s done it. I’m thinking about something else now. Great. Guess I’ll have to start a conversation with someone.

 

    I turn to the girl, but she stares daggers at me and looks like she’s about to tell me to stop touching her again. The guy in front of me is not a candidate for conversation. So, I turn to my left-hand neighbor. He’s sitting there with his helmet scrunched down almost over his eyes, shocks of dirty, sandy blond hair sticking out from under it at odd angles.

    “Uh, hey there,” I venture, trying to sound cheerful and friendly. Got to admit that’s hard for me at the best of times.
    “Whadda ya want?” he snorts.
    “What village you from?” I ask.
    To my surprise, he answers. “Snoroth.”
    “Ah, I know where that is. You’re about a day’s ride east of us.”
    “We was, ain’t nothin’ left now,” he said, sounding a bit forlorn.
    “Yeah, not much left of Naguu, either. I guess we’re in the same boat.”
    He unwedged his arm and tilted back his helmet. His blue eyes stared at me curiously. “Boat? This is a cage, ain’t it?”
    Oh great. Okay, not the brightest star in the sky, but he looked strong. Might as well try to make friends. He could come in handy. “My name’s Quirk, what’s yours?”
    “Hugo.”
    I try moving my arm to shake hands but realize doing so would risk even more intimate touching of the lady next to me, so I refrain.
    “So, what did you do in Snoroth, Hugo?” I ask with as genuine a smile as I can muster under the circumstances.
    “I was part of the guard.”
    “Oh, too bad, guess you boys weren’t very successful at, er, guarding.”
    Hugo frowned as if realizing something. “Nope, s’pose not.” He sighed. “I’m the only one they caught.”
    “Did the others get away?” I asked hopefully.
    “Nope, all killed.”
    “Oh, too bad for them.”
    “Only just a little better fer me,” Hugo noted, with what I suspect was a rare amount of insight for him.
    “Yeah, well like I said, we’re all stuck in this cage now. I’m thinking maybe we should try to team up and think of a way out.”
    Hugo frowned, obviously puzzled at the notion. I guessed that the thought of thinking himself out of any predicament was inconceivable to him.
    “Okay, my bad. I guess I should be more clear. I’m suggesting that I think of a way to get us out of here and you provide whatever muscle that may be required to do it.
    Hugo’s face brightened, and he smiled. This was something he understood. “Uh, yeah, okay. Sonds like a good idea. You’re smart.”
    “We won’t know that for sure until I actually come up with a plan,” I replied.
    At this point I guess I should tell you that I’ve had, uh, extensive experience with cages. I’ve spent a fair amount of time in and out of Naguu’s local lockup. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a dangerous criminal or anything, but sometimes I can be a little impatient. I mean, why bother planting corn when I can cadge some spare ears off a farmer’s cart on the way to market? And if a shepherd has too many sheep, goats or pigs to keep track of, I do my best to help him out by looking after a stray or two. Now sometimes, the farmers resent my lifestyle philosophy and complain to the local constable.
    The result is that I often find myself in the position in which I am now. The only difference this time, and I have to admit it’s a big difference, is that I was reasonably sure that I’d be released in a month or so, and in the meantime I’d have two or three square meals a day and a fairly comfortable cot to sleep on. I had also built up a good rapport with my jailers over the years. All in all, it was a reasonably pleasant experience.

Quirk: Chapter 1

 As I mentioned in my previous post, I've started a new book. I've tentatively entitled it "Quirk", but that could change. Anyway, I've written about 5,000 words so far, and I'd really like to hear some feedback. It's a departure from my previous style.

Chapter 1

In which we meet a young citizen of a tiny, remote village.

What is life anyway? Some say it’s a grand adventure, spread out before us waiting to be grabbed by the horns and enjoyed to the fullest. For others, it’s non-stop trial and testing, a battle between failure and success. According to some, it is whatever we make of it.

To me, it’s all a lie. We tell ourselves that we are in control, that our destiny is in our hands, and that things will work out in the end. Rubbish. To me, life is a crapshoot. Some roll sevens while others…snake eyes. It’s all random.

Take me for example. My name is Quirk. I’ve lived 17 summers so far. Not long, you might say, but I know this isn’t my first go-round. I’ve lived before. Don’t ask me how I know, it’s just something I’ve felt, known, since this birth. From my earliest memory, it’s been a given that I’ve gone through this thing called life at least several times before. I can’t remember specifics, just impressions. Sometimes, it’s been rather nice, but most times…not so much.

I thought that this was a common thing, so imagine my surprise when I learned that in fact, I seem to be the only one in my village that had these past life impressions. I mean, I don’t know for sure. I didn’t go around asking people. But I’ve never heard anyone talking about it—not even a whisper. You’d think that if people did have these impressions, I’d have heard something, especially since I was looking out for them.

But no. Nothing. Mind you, a village can keep its secrets when it really wants to. Take my village, for example. We are—or maybe were—just a small settlement of 250 or so souls tucked into the northeast corner of one of the largest kingdoms in the world. Not much happens here. In fact, it’s kind of boring, until this morning, but I’ll get to that. Boring looks pretty good at the moment. I guess what happened this morning is the most excitement folks around here have seen since the Troubles.

Nobody around here talks much about the Troubles. It’s all kind of hush hush. The nearest I can figure is they happened about 25 years ago or so. There was a lot of unrest—a revolution or something. All villages were required to come to the aid of the king to help put down the uprising. No one really wanted to go, but each village had a certain number of soldiers they were required to provide. Now, there has never been, and probably never will be a soldier born in this village, but we still had to supply them. So, about 80 men left to join the army. From what I hear, not many returned.

I don’t really know much about those times. I may have lived through them in a past life, but like I said before, I only have vague impressions. I do have a sense of darkness and pain that I feel is pretty recent, so perhaps I lived through that time and experienced some sort of hardship. 

Anyhow, the king was overthrown and as is the way with most revolutions, a new king took his place. From what I can gather, he is even worse than the previous king. That’s not really a surprise, as things are pretty bleak around here these days.

My village is called Naguu. Like I said, it’s tucked neatly in the northeast corner of the kingdom. Our backs are right up against the Pellegost Range. That’s a line of mountains that forms the border with our neighbors, the Cratts. As you could probably guess from their name, the Cratts are a nasty, greedy, vicious, and misbehaved race of marauders and thieves. By all accounts, they are a nomadic people who take great delight in coming down from the mountains to attack and pillage poor, defenseless villages. 

Our own wonderful monarch had set up a sort of border patrol to protect his beloved northern subjects from attack, but patrols have become far less frequent in the past few years than they had been. It is said that he has more pressing political and crowd control matters to attend to closer to the capital down south. It’s really unfortunate that he’s having some difficulties keeping everything in order.

I say that, not because I really care about the king’s situation, but because this morning the Cratts took advantage of the lack of patrols to issue forth from the mountains and level my little village. It wasn’t pretty. They looted and killed most of the men, women, and children. A few of us “lucky” ones were thrown into wagon cages. I guess we’ll either be sold as slaves or maybe pressed into service in their army or something.

Anyway, I suppose it’s better to be alive rather than dead, but I could be wrong. Time will tell. Life goes on…for now.